


Ain't Going Nowhere

by pamdizzle



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: Afterlife, But still kind of a fix it, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Hinted Kragdu, Infinity Wars (mentioned), M/M, Merideth Quill (mentioned), Things Unsaid, not a fix it, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-27
Updated: 2017-06-27
Packaged: 2018-11-19 13:58:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11314851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pamdizzle/pseuds/pamdizzle
Summary: Peter gets knocked the fuck out during a battle and Yondu helps him find his way back. Or something.





	Ain't Going Nowhere

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this on my phone in an hour. I am sorry for the typos. If you would be a doll and, in addition to sharing your opinion on the fic as a whole in a comment, point out where specific typos are, that would be very appreciated. My laptop is on the fritz so phone thumbing it is...ugh.
> 
>  
> 
> So, anyway, here you go...some fluff, well, as close as it gets. Toeing the line, maybe. Whatever. Yondu is dead, he's allowed some fluff. Its basically a conversation. Hopefully, it isn't horrible. The 'void' is based off that scene where Peter sees his mom again in gotg 1.

Peter knows he’s fucked up something awful when he wakes up to the cosmos swirling around him, no sense of time or space just endless galactic whorls. It’s another out of body experience, like that time with the infinity stone, except there ain’t no more celestial power to keep him from joining the starry swirl for good this time, and he can’t remember what he’d been doing before waking up here.

“Hell, boy, if you missed me so damned much you coulda jus’ sent me a postcard.”

Peter snaps his head toward the voice, eyes desperately seeking the figure of a man he thought he’d never see again. “Yondu?”

The centaurian looks the same as he ever did, eyes squinting with mirth, a smile pulled back over sharp, capped teeth. Peter doesn’t miss that Yondu’s amusement is at his own expense, also as per usual, but he's too busy basking in the man’s familiar presence to care. It’s as reassuring as it is unsettling. He wants to get up, run to his late captain and say everything he’s been thinking for the last half a year. What he does instead is swallow around the lump in his throat and ask, “Am I dead?”

Yondu doesn’t seem to be having any such internal wars with his own feelings as he approaches Peter with that unwavering confidence inherent only to himself. He reaches for Peter’s shoulders, squeezing them both before wrapping Peter up in an embrace so tight it finally shocks Peter out of his stupor. He grips Yondu back, buries his face in his dad’s neck and inhales.

“Goddamn, it’s good to see you, brat.” Yondu doesn’t try to pull away, doesn’t poke fun at Peter for his tears or call him out for being soft. Just holds on and continues the conversation as if this was always how they were. As if hugging is the most natural thing they’ve ever done. “You ain’t dead, son, notchyet anyway.”

Finally, Peter, manages to make himself retreat, though he can’t quite drop his grip where it’s slipped to Yondu’s elbows. “I was the shittiest son—”

Yondu shakes him. “You done the best you could with what ya had. Considering that was me…well, no one'd fault ya for bein' a right shit at times.”

Peter's laugh is wet, and he realizes he’s been crying. He huffs at himself, relinquishing his hold on Yondu to wipe at his face. “Mom gonna show up too? Make me embarrass myself even more?”

Yondu's smile falters. “Nice lady, yer mamma. But uh, nah. Not this time. S'just me.”

“You met her?” Peter’s curiosity overrules all else. “What the hell is this place? I mean, it doesn’t feel like a dream. Is it a dream?”

“Ain’t quite a dream, ain’t quite a place,” Yondu replies cryptically. “You remember them stories what Kraglin liked to tell?”

“About what's out in the void?” Peter grins. “He’s got a fresh audience again, what do you think?”

Yondu's expression is wistful for a moment as he asks, “How's he, uh... how's he doin?”

Peter nods. “Gettin’ there, I think.”

Yondu clears his throat, nods. “Anyway, it’s kinda like that. Dif'rent plane, dif’rent rules. I seen all kinds of folk. Its got a way o' finding connections between us all. S'weird, ain’t no doubt about that, but it ain’t bad.” He pauses, puts a hand on Peter’s shoulder and says, “You tell ol' Kraggles, not to rush on over, but I’ll find ‘im when he does. Alright?”

That lump's trying to climb back up his throat again, but he swallows it back down before it can choke him up. “So…you seen my mom?”

“I did. She’s still a little upset…’bout Ego.”

“I don’t blame her for that! She didn't know what he was.”

“I know you don’t. Don’t mean she doesn’t. She’ll come round.”

“But—”

“None o' that, Quill. Ya ain’t got time for sentiment right now. Betchu don’t even remember where the hell you really are, do ya boy?”

Peter purses his lips, his brow furrowing as he tries to focus on what had led him here. His brain aches the harder he pushes for the memories.

Yondu’s hand cuffs him upside the temple. “Quit that! Never said ya had to figure it out on your own. The Hell you think I’m here for?”

Peter winces. “As a manifestation of my deeply suppressed survivor’s guilt?”

Yondu shakes his head. “That rat’s right about you, kid. You got problems, and don’t look at me like that! Ain’t my fault you terrans is touchy.”

Peter's about to open his mouth to deliver an instinctual smartass response, which, totally warranted here, when Yondu dangles a shiny, translucent string in front of his face. It’s...kind of mesmorizing, actually.

“That’s right,” Yondu says encouragingly as Peter slowly reaches for it. “Go ahead, son. You know where it goes. Pull on it jus' a little. Like when we use to practice yer shooting. Nice ‘n easy like, Peter.”

Peter can feel it, when he gently plucks the strand from Yondu’s grip. It pulses through his awareness as he gently tugs, and then he can see more of it, leading him out into the sparkling void. He takes a step forward.

“'ey, Quill!” Yondu shouts, somewhat sheepish when Peter turns back to him. “I’m damned proud of you, son.”

Peter smiles, brokenly. “I miss you too, Old Man.”

Yondu huffs. “Ain’t going nowhere. Be here when ya get back.”

\--

Peter wakes up to a red and yellow, iron face hovering above him.

“You back, kid?”

He blinks, shakes his head. His team and the rest of Earth's defenders are flying around overhead, fighting back Thanos' forces. He knows exactly where he is now. They gotta stop him getting that last infinity stone or the whole Galaxy is completely fucked—again.

“Pete?” That’s Kraglin's scruffy mug, pushing Tony out of the way.

“M’fine,” he finally manages to say, unsticking his tongue from his mouth. He’s almost definitely concussed. “Just…drifted for a bit. Dad says to tell you he’ll be waiting for you in the void. No rush, he says.”

Kraglin blinks at him, then averts his gaze entirely, taking a deep breath before pulling up his wrist comm. “Get that damn healy lady down here. ‘Starlord’ done knocked hisself retarded.”

Peter can’t say he blames the guy, but they don’t have time for that shit. He sits up, activates his helmet. “Belay that order.” He remembers what he was doing now. “I gotta bogey for that son of a bitch, coming through!”

Tony slaps a sensor onto Peter’s neck. “Fine, but Friday is monitoring you. Anything abnormal, and we pull you out, kapiche?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Peter doesn’t need Friday. He’s had a blue, crochety badass watching his back since he was eight. It’s that thought Peter takes with him as he flies up to meet Thanos, and it’s that same thought he carries with him a week later when he leaves Earth behind him for the second time.

 


End file.
